1.C.3.10. HE WHO SEEKS TO BETTER HIMSELF MAY RENDER HIS SITUATION
WORSE
MADAME THENARDIER had allowed her husband to have his
own way, as was her wont. She had expected great results.
When the man and Cosette had taken their departure, Thenardier
allowed a full quarter of an hour to elapse; then he took
her aside and showed her the fifteen hundred francs.
"Is that all?" said she.
It was the first time since they had set up housekeeping that
she had dared to criticise one of the master's acts.
The blow told.
"You are right, in sooth," said he; "I am a fool. Give me
my hat."
He folded up the three bank-bills, thrust them into his
pocket, and ran out in all haste; but he made a mistake and
turned to the right first. Some neighbors, of whom he made
inquiries, put him on the track again; the Lark and the man
had been seen going in the direction of Livry. He followed
these hints, walking with great strides, and talking to himself
the while:—
"That man is evidently a million dressed in yellow, and I
am an animal. First he gave twenty sous, then five francs,
then fifty francs, then fifteen hundred francs, all with equal
readiness. He would have given fifteen thousand francs. But
I shall overtake him."
And then, that bundle of clothes prepared beforehand for
the child; all that was singular; many mysteries lay concealed
under it. One does not let mysteries out of one's hand
when one has once grasped them. The secrets of the wealthy
are sponges of gold; one must know how to subject them to
pressure. All these thoughts whirled through his brain. "I
am an animal," said he.
When one leaves Montfermeil and reaches the turn which
the road takes that runs to Livry, it can be seen stretching out
before one to a great distance across the plateau. On arriving
there, he calculated that he ought to be able to see the old man
and the child. He looked as far as his vision reached, and saw
nothing. He made fresh inquiries, but he had wasted time.
Some passersby informed him that the man and child of
whom he was in search had gone towards the forest in the
direction of Gagny. He hastened in that direction.
They were far in advance of him; but a child walks slowly,
and he walked fast; and then, he was well acquainted with the
country.
All at once he paused and dealt himself a blow on his forehead
like a man who has forgotten some essential point and
who is ready to retrace his steps.
"I ought to have taken my gun," said he to himself.
Thenardier was one of those double natures which sometimes
pass through our midst without our being aware of the
fact, and who disappear without our finding them out,
because destiny has only exhibited one side of them. It is the
fate of many men to live thus half submerged. In a calm
and even situation, Thenardier possessed all that is required
to make— we will not say to be— what people have agreed to
call an honest trader, a good bourgeois. At the same time
certain circumstances being given, certain shocks arriving to
bring his under-nature to the surface, he had all the requisites
for a blackguard. He was a shopkeeper in whom there was
some taint of the monster. Satan must have occasionally
crouched down in some corner of the hovel in which Thenardier
dwelt, and have fallen a-dreaming in the presence of
this hideous masterpiece.
After a momentary hesitation:—
"Bah!" he thought; "they will have time to make their
escape."
And he pursued his road, walking rapidly straight ahead,
and with almost an air of certainty, with the sagacity of a
fox scenting a covey of partridges.
In truth, when he had passed the ponds and had traversed
in an oblique direction the large clearing which lies on the
right of the Avenue de Bellevue, and reached that turf alley
which nearly makes the circuit of the hill, and covers the arch
of the ancient aqueduct of the Abbey of Chelles, he caught
sight, over the top of the brushwood, of the hat on which he
had already erected so many conjectures; it was that man's
hat. The brushwood was not high. Thenardier recognized
the fact that the man and Cosette were sitting there. The
child could not be seen on account of her small size, but the
head of her doll was visible.
Thenardier was not mistaken. The man was sitting there,
and letting Cosette get somewhat rested. The inn-keeper
walked round the brushwood and presented himself abruptly
to the eyes of those whom he was in search of.
"Pardon, excuse me, sir," he said, quite breathless, "but
here are your fifteen hundred francs."
So saying, he handed the stranger the three bank-bills.
The man raised his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Thenardier replied respectfully:—
"It means, sir, that I shall take back Cosette."
Cosette shuddered, and pressed close to the old man.
He replied, gazing to the very bottom of Thenardier's eyes
the while, and enunciating every syllable distinctly:—
"You are go-ing to take back Co-sette?"
"Yes, sir, I am. I will tell you; I have considered the matter.
In fact, I have not the right to give her to you. I am an
honest man, you see; this child does not belong to me; she
belongs to her mother. It was her mother who confided her
to me; I can only resign her to her mother. You will say to
me, 'But her mother is dead.' Good; in that case I can only
give the child up to the person who shall bring me a writing,
signed by her mother, to the effect that I am to hand the child
over to the person therein mentioned; that is clear."
The man, without making any reply, fumbled in his pocket,
and Thenardier beheld the pocket-book of bank-bills make its
appearance once more.
The tavern-keeper shivered with joy.
"Good!" thought he; "let us hold firm; he is going to bribe
me!"
Before opening the pocket-book, the traveller cast a glance
about him: the spot was absolutely deserted; there was not a
soul either in the woods or in the valley. The man opened his
pocket-book once more and drew from it, not the handful of
bills which Thenardier expected, but a simple little paper,
which he unfolded and presented fully open to the inn-keeper,
saying:—
"You are right; read!"
Thenardier took the paper and read:—
"M. SUR M., March 25, 1823.
"MONSIEUR THENARDIER:—
You will deliver Cosette to this person.
You will be paid for all the little things.
I have the honor to salute you with respect,
FANTINE."
"You know that signature?" resumed the man.
It certainly was Fantine's signature; Thenardier recognized
it.
There was no reply to make; he experienced two violent
vexations, the vexation of renouncing the bribery which he
had hoped for, and the vexation of being beaten; the man
added:—
"You may keep this paper as your receipt."
Thenardier retreated in tolerably good order.
"This signature is fairly well imitated," he growled between
his teeth; "however, let it go!"
Then he essayed a desperate effort.
"It is well, sir," he said, "since you are the person, but I
must be paid for all those little things. A great deal is owing
to me."
The man rose to his feet, filliping the dust from his threadbare
sleeve:—
"Monsieur Thenardier, in January last, the mother reckoned
that she owed you one hundred and twenty francs. In
February, you sent her a bill of five hundred francs; you
received three hundred francs at the end of February, and
three hundred francs at the beginning of March. Since then
nine months have elapsed, at fifteen francs a month, the price
agreed upon, which makes one hundred and thirty-five francs.
You had received one hundred francs too much; that makes
thirty-five still owing you. I have just given you fifteen
hundred francs."
Thenardier's sensations were those of the wolf at the
moment when he feels himself nipped and seized by the steel
jaw of the trap.
"Who is this devil of a man?" he thought.
He did what the wolf does: he shook himself. Audacity
had succeeded with him once.
"Monsieur-I-don't-know-your-name," he said resolutely,
and this time casting aside all respectful ceremony, "I shall
take back Cosette if you do not give me a thousand crowns."
The stranger said tranquilly:—
"Come, Cosette."
He took Cosette by his left hand, and with his right he
picked up his cudgel, which was lying on the ground.
Thenardier noted the enormous size of the cudgel and the
solitude of the spot.
The man plunged into the forest with the child, leaving the
inn-keeper motionless and speechless.
While they were walking away, Thenardier scrutinized his
huge shoulders, which were a little rounded, and his great
fists.
Then, bringing his eyes back to his own person, they fell
upon his feeble arms and his thin hands. "I really must have
been exceedingly stupid not to have thought to bring my
gun," he said to himself, "since I was going hunting!"
However, the inn-keeper did not give up.
"I want to know where he is going," said he, and he set out
to follow them at a distance. Two things were left on his
hands, an irony in the shape of the paper signed Fantine, and
a consolation, the fifteen hundred francs.
The man led Cosette off in the direction of Livry and
Bondy. He walked slowly, with drooping head, in an attitude
of reflection and sadness. The winter had thinned out the
forest, so that Thenardier did not lose them from sight,
although he kept at a good distance. The man turned round
from time to time, and looked to see if he was being followed.
All at once he caught sight of Thenardier. He plunged
suddenly into the brushwood with Cosette, where they could
both hide themselves. "The deuce!" said Thenardier, and he
redoubled his pace.
The thickness of the undergrowth forced him to draw
nearer to them. When the man had reached the densest part
of the thicket, he wheeled round. It was in vain that Thenardier
sought to conceal himself in the branches; he could not
prevent the man seeing him. The man cast upon him an
uneasy glance, then elevated his head and continued his
course. The inn-keeper set out again in pursuit. Thus they
continued for two or three hundred paces. All at once the
man turned round once more; he saw the inn-keeper. This
time he gazed at him with so sombre an air that Thenardier
decided that it was "useless" to proceed further. Thenardier
retraced his steps.